Him and Her
by TheDirectorH
Summary: When boarding the next plane and the plane after that, he would think of her.


**Disclaimer: **No, nope, and absolutely not.

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_**Him**_

It was raining. Again.

He could honestly say he had never been in a city so cold or dreary—and he'd been just about everywhere. Looking. Searching. But not finding. Never finding. It was sometime in the early morning, or at least that's what he guessed. It was hard to tell, the clouds were too heavy. Of all the places he'd seen, this small little town was one he'd remember the most. The people were dull—subdued. The atmosphere melancholy, so dank and so sad the _trees_ were grieving. It was like the entire suburb was in permanent mourning.

The stale air felt like ice his lungs. Every inhale burned his insides with frostbite. But he would not move. He would not go inside the small café he was sitting in front of, though he could smell the ground coffee beans and feel the barely-there heat. It reminded him of something death warmed over.

The streets were empty and the only sound—save for the drip, drip, drip of the rain—was of the door opening behind him.

_**Her**_

She hadn't noticed him when she walked in. Probably because he was dressed from head to foot in various shades gray. He fit into the background of this city well. If it hadn't been for the small tilt of his head she had seen out of her peripheral, she would have kept walking. But she didn't. And something about this man, something she couldn't put her finger on, made her take a moment to study him. He was facing away, towards the street, but from what she could see, he was probably in his early to mid-twenties. A gray hoodie covered almost any other feature she could possibly see, and a baggy pair dark wash jeans dropped from his wait right down to his scuffed white sneakers.

He was not a native here. She had never seen him before, but he fit right into this morbid little place. She briefly wondered if maybe he was a permanent fixture. From the way he was staring so intently out into the rain, she guessed not.

The woman behind the bar asked what she wanted. Instead of getting her usual coffee, _no cream, please,_ she ordered two.

_**Him**_

"Here."

The voice made him jump. A cup of steaming coffee was shoved in his face, and after shaking off his surprised, he shook his head. The woman—_girl_, he realized, could not be older than twenty. She had short _pink-who had pink?-_hair, the color of cotton candy, he thinks. A loose sweatshirt about three times too big was draped over her slim frame and a back pack was slung across her shoulders, papers falling out in every opening. A college student then. She would not have the money to spend on buying extra coffee for a stranger.

He politely refused, _no, thank you. I don't really need it_, and she stared at him as if he were not quite right in the head.

Hands on her hips, eyebrows nearing her hairline, she snorted. "Look, dude. You're sitting _outside_ in freezing rain watching a lamp post. I can tell you right now, it isn't going to move," she shook the coffee in front of him, "Now take the damn coffee."

He didn't have to be told twice. The paper cup warmed his hands and left his fingers tingling from pins and needles.

"Thank you," And he meant it. More than he'd meant anything in long time. And when she smiled, bright and big and so full of something he couldn't name, he swore the sun was shining and the rain had stopped and this horrible place wasn't so bad anymore.

"Don't mention it. Just keep your head up, yeah?" She started to walk away, but hesitated. "If you can't find what you're looking for out there," She gestured to misty rain soaked streets, "try looking in here," her hand tapped her chest, right above her heart. Before he could say another word, stop her; ask her name, she was gone. Disappearing into the mid-morning drear.

When boarding the next plane and the plane after that, he would think of her.

.:_Fin_:.

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**A/N: **Okay, so I was really, really bored. Like _really. _I live somewhere in Oklahoma (_no_, we do not live in TP's, _thank you very much. _And neither am I some backwater hick_). _Anyway, every year between Christmas and February we get shit fucked with snow. The year before last was Satan's Snow Storm of '09, and last year was Winter Death 2010 and _now _we have Snow-Mageddon 2011. Yay. I have been stuck inside for three days with _nothing_ to do. And I can't go play in it because it's seven degrees outside and I value my fingers right were they are. On my hand. I also have a four foot drift outside my front door. So. I'm going to quit rambling now. Yeah. Review!


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